


Dreamer

by bruinsand1d22



Series: Gallavich Week [1]
Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:44:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruinsand1d22/pseuds/bruinsand1d22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Mickey brings Ian home after he ran away. Not completely AU, just my imagination wishing how things will happen. I may have a thing for jealous/insecure Mickey...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> The disclaimer is that I wrote this right after 4x07 without knowledge of the rest of the season, but I'm including it as part of Gallavich Week because why not. Happy reading! xx

“Mickey, hey Mick. Wake up Mickey.”

 

Mickey jolted awake at the sound of Ian’s pleading voice, his eyes darting rapidly around the room as he took in his surroundings. A crib in the corner, posters of half-naked women and washed up bands on the wall confirming that he was in the Gallagher brothers' bedroom. He could feel the slow kneading of Ian’s fingers around his own, not realizing how tight his fists were clenched.

 

“What were you dreaming about?” Ian whispered, scooting closer and wrapping a thrown aside blanket around Mickey’s small body.

 

Mickey didn’t answer though. The dream had felt so real, his senses heightened, and even as Ian began to unravel his fingers, Mickey couldn’t stop thinking about his dream.

 

_He had been walking through the park, on his way back from his fucked up house to the Gallagher’s hectic-yet-welcoming little corner. It was a pretty nice day for spring in Chicago, which was why Mickey had decided to take the long route through the park._

_He was just getting to the cross walk when he heard it. The enthusiastic laugh that he knew too well. When he turned, he was able to make out the splash of fiery red that accompanied the sound, and Mickey began to make his way back through the crowd waiting to cross. He thought Ian was working all day, he had been planning on surprising him at the end of his shift with a beer and an invitation to steal some McDonalds and hide under the L. So it was safe to say Mickey was surprised at the presence of the boy._

_As he got closer to the bench Ian was occupying, he started to slow, the scene playing out in front of him stopping him in his tracks. It was definitely Ian on the bench, but he wasn’t alone. Lying against Ian’s freckled shoulder was the bleached blond head of another man, and Mickey watched as Ian leaned down, kissing the blond fully on the mouth._

_Mickey froze, his ears ringing and blood boiling as the two men pulled away from each other, again throwing their heads back with laughter at some inside joke that Mickey would never share. The blond man turned slightly, and that’s when Mickey recognized the face of the person from the club. The person he had found Ian grinding down on. The club where Ian had hid; hid from Mickey. The club where Mickey had begged for Ian to come home, away from the dancing and the strange men, all reaching for a piece of his Ian. Mickey’s fists instantly clenched, the anger flaring up in him at the thought of Ian and this creep together. He started forward, pushing past any one who got in his way._

_As he got closer, the blond man turned, spotting Mickey and tapping Ian on the arm. When Ian turned, Mickey saw the make-up’d, stone-cold face of the man he had met in the club that day. The dark, outlined eyes stared at Mickey charging across the park, and Mickey thought about calling out to Ian. But when Ian turned back towards the man next to him, they both threw their heads back in a unison cackle. Mickey could feel himself about to burst, whether from anger, pain, frustration; he didn’t know._

_The louder the laughter got, the faster Mickey walked, until he was running, sprinting, trying to get to the crazed man he felt responsible to fix. But the bench wasn’t getting any closer, but even farther away, and Mickey was running out of breath. This made the laughter intensify, like his pain was what fueled the two crazy bench-goers. Mickey continued though, his eyes beginning to sting, the lack of oxygen causing the world around him to spin. He was confused, the laughter magnifying, and everywhere he looked he was met with the un-welcoming eyes._

 

“Mickey?”

 

Mickey was brought back to the bedroom, eyes finally locking with Ian’s. Except instead of finding the harsh and dark gaze, he was met with the concerned, gentle green.

 

When he didn’t respond other than a quick shake of his head, Mickey felt Ian roll closer, shifting so that he was completely on top of Mickey, his long forearms cradling the smaller boy’s head to maintain the avoiding eye contact. Normally Mickey would have pushed Ian off by now, the coupley-ness of the situation too much for the dark-haired boy, even if he secretly enjoyed the gentle touches. But with the events of Mickey’s dream still playing in his mind, combined with Ian’s recent emotional fragility, Mickey gave in to the warm body on top of his, knowing that the other boys in the room were too deep in sleep to witness it.

 

“You can tell me Mick,” Ian said, his worry growing at the unusually quietness coming from the man underneath him. When Mickey still didn’t respond, Ian ran his thumbs along Mickey’s stubbled jaw line. “Please?”

 

“It’s stupid,” Mickey breathed out, trying to turn his head away, but Ian kept a firm grip.

 

“You’re not stupid.”

 

Mickey sighed, realizing Ian wasn’t going to let him drop it. “I saw you in the park,” Mickey started, voice quiet, and Ian would have smiled at Mickey admitting he dreamed about him if the smaller boy didn’t look so broken. “But you were with, him.”

 

Ian had to strain to hear the whispered last word, confusion immediately setting in. _Him?_ Ian didn’t know who Mickey was talking about, but he couldn’t help the anger that settled in him against the mysterious person that was causing Mickey so much pain.

 

“Who was it?”

 

“I, I don’t know. The one from the club I guess.”

 

Ian sucked in a breath. _The club_. That was something neither of them had brought up since Ian had come home. Where it had been the thing that had helped bring them together, the club was also a place filled with pain and mistakes.

 

“What happened then?” Ian forced out, trying to push away the feelings that came with the club and be strong for Mickey.

 

Mickey tensed up, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, trying not to raise his voice at the confused boy on top of him.

 

“You were laughing, and touching, and kissing, and ignoring me.” Ian watched as Mickey stuttered, his voice cracking slightly at the end, the facts sinking in as Ian realized that Mickey had dreamt about Ian cheating on him.

 

“Oh Mickey,” Ian whispered, pulling Mickey into his chest and holding him tight. He met initial resistance, but soon felt two strong arms wrap around his waist, holding Ian tight against him.

 

He had been so caught up in his own drama, with Liam and Fiona and figuring out what with wrong with himself that Ian hadn’t realized how big of an impact that night at the club had had on Mickey. He was surprised that Mickey had kept quiet so long, but honestly that was just like him; pretend on the outside that everything’s fine, when the inside is completely broken. Maybe it was the need to keep up his badass look, or maybe he was afraid of what Ian would say, but either way, the fact that Mickey Milkovich was actually worried that Ian would cheat on him caused a fierce protectiveness to flare up in Ian, an emotion he hadn’t felt in months.

 

Feeling the rattled breath coming out of the dark-haired man beneath him, Ian pulled back slightly, running a hand through Mickey’s soft hair.

 

They hadn’t spoke about it since Ian had come home, but there was something different with the way Mickey acted around Ian. He noticed it when he caught Mickey staring at him when he thought Ian wasn’t looking, or the way he would reach for Ian’s back when they were walking back from work at night. Mickey still verbally denied any relation to Ian when there were others around, constantly telling Lip to “fuck off” when he would wink at them. But Ian could feel a difference when they were alone. The grip on his hips was a little tighter, his lips on Ian’s chest more eager, and after they were done, and Ian would be on the verge of sleep, he could feel Mickey's fingertips dancing along his chest. 

 

Ian knew Mickey wouldn’t ever want to talk about them being official, and Ian didn’t expect him to. But with the way Mickey looked now, his bright blue eyes wide against his pale skin and his arms tight around Ian like he would break if he let go, Ian knew this was a close as Mickey would get to telling Ian he needed him.

 

“I’m yours Mickey,” Ian stated truthfully, watching as Mickey blinked, his lips curling up and down as he bit them between his teeth. “I’m yours, and I’m not going anywhere.” Ian paused, every further second Mickey stayed quiet Ian took as encouragement to continue. “You’re all that I want, please don’t give up on me.” And with that, Mickey finally raised his head, meeting Ian’s eyes with a watery set of his own, nodding his head quickly. Ian couldn’t stop the heart-filled smile from spreading when he saw Mickey nod, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles around Mickey’s temples.

 

Mickey's mind was fighting against his heart to keep the corners of his mouth from reflecting Ian’s goofy and tooth filled grin. He couldn’t help the feeling in his gut at the red-head’s words, hating himself for not being able to say them back.

 

Before Ian could see the corners of his mouth twisting up into dimples, Mickey reached an arm up to pull the familiar lips down to his own, hoping the pressure of his lips would be enough to convey what Ian needed to know.

 

Their lips, despite only meeting a few times, fit together with ease. Ian was swarmed with the tenderness Mickey took with the kiss, not shifting to deepen it, but content with the soft weight and taste.

 

When Mickey pulled back, he kept Ian’s forehead pressed against his own, relishing in the quiet message that was passing between them.

 

Without saying a word, Ian shifted slightly, rolling on his side to pull Mickey into his chest, sighing when Mcikey fell easily against him and wrapped his arms around Ian’s muscled torso. Ian felt Mickey place a kiss below his collarbone, leaving goose bumps on the smooth skin above Ian’s heart.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Any feedback (or more prompts) is appreciated!


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